


The Coffeenante

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:05:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10562415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: Holden is really cute when he’s grumpy -- cuter still when he’s smiling at her, little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Naomi never thought that type could be her type. Everybody and their mother know she’s always been into tough, bad boys.But the whole farmer boy slash former navy guy slash soft barista seems to be working on her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sorry not sorry about this terrible pun in the title
> 
> also, every ship deserves a coffee shop au so here we are [the rock voice] you're welcome

Naomi is a creature of habits, you see. It keeps her grounded, after too many years as a reckless teenager with even more reckless thoughts. Many would find her daily routine boring, but she likes it that way, likes to know exactly where she is heading and what’s in the cards for her that day.

She wakes up at 7 every morning, gets breakfast ready and gets Filip out of bed, before school starts at 8. By 8.30 she’s at the shop, ready to start the day until 5. She doesn’t actually start before 9, though, so she always takes that half hour to go next door to the  _ Coffeenante _ and order her coffee -- one cream, five sugars. On a good day (read: on a day where her favourite barista gets the morning shift) she will stay at the coffee shop and chat. Any other day, she will just go back to the shop and read the news on her phone before her own shift starts.

Habits, you see. They are a wonderful thing.

Still, nothing prepares her for the giggle that escapes her lips the moment she steps into the  _ Coffeenante _ that morning. The coffee shop is almost empty but for a couple of customers, and Holden is next to the espresso machine, dying. Head hiding in his folded arms, he groans pitifully at the way the bell chimes above her, not even looking up. Naomi can’t help but smirk -- last night involved Drummer’s house and way too many bottles of vodka. Which Naomi loves on a daily basis, and was made even more entertaining by the fact that Bobbie was there, and ready to prove she could drink Holden under the table.

He’s never been really good at refusing a challenge.

Or at holding his alcohol.

Naomi refrains from running a hand through his hair, and instead plants both hands on the counter as loudly as she can, effectively startling him. Alex comes out of the kitchens at that exact moment, and just laughs at the way Holden now glares at her.

“Hello, Jimmy boy!” she exclaims.

He waves his hand in front of her face, still frowning. “Too loud. Too happy.”

She grins at him, even more so when Alex drops a shot of espresso in front of him and Holden downs it in a quarter of a second. He winces at the bitter taste, the frown a permanent feature between his brows. It shouldn’t make him look adorable, but it strangely does. Because Holden is really cute when he’s grumpy -- cuter still when he’s smiling at her, little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Naomi never thought that type could be  _ her _ type. Everybody and their mother know she’s always been into tough, bad boys.

But the whole farmer boy slash former navy guy slash soft barista seems to be working on her. And Holden still hasn’t noticed it, because she’s quite good at hiding her stupid school girl crush. Not that he’s going to notice today of all days, either.

Alex takes pity on him, serving Naomi her drink before she even has to ask, and she hands him a crumpled dollar bill with a roll of her eyes. She takes a sip, coffee burning down her throat, before she raises her cup to Alex in a silent thanks. He replies with a lazy salute, two fingers against his temple, and a smile so bright it makes up for Holden’s sour mood.

She’s by the door, ready to go back to work, when she hears him say, “Now I know you’re not faking it, boss. No way you ain’t noticing that crop top when sober.”

Naomi smirks to herself.

Maybe he noticed, after all.

 

…

 

Jim is a man of simple pleasures.

He enjoys a good cup of coffee first thing in the morning, and how crispy fresh the Montana air is during the winter. He loves to relax after a long day of word, and seeing Alex and Amos bicker like an old married couple. He likes his job, the nice customers who come by everyday, and how life is much easier now that he’s not in the navy anymore.

He also really, very, enjoys the way Naomi Nagata looks.

There is something particularly enticing about the way she only wears a black tank top under her coverall, and strips from the waist up when she is not working, showing more skin than he know how to handle. She always has smudged of grease everywhere, up her neck and down her arms, under her nails, but her hair remains flawless throughout the day, soft and bouncy and perfect.

She’s the highlight of his day, and he wishes he was less of a moron and knew how to ask her out. Ade’s rejection still lies uneasily in his stomach, and he’s wary of the potential heartbreak with Naomi’s name on it. Damn Mother Elise for turning him into a romantic sap who can’t deal with only the physical aspect of relationships.

Still, she makes his day when she walks into the coffee shop, a little less so when Jim notices the scold on her face and the way she stomps angrily to the counter. He’s known her long enough now -- five years of her working in the repair shop next door, five years of making her coffee every day -- that he doesn’t need her order, just prepares it right away while she’s glaring at the muffins like they kill puppies for sport.

“Should I ask?”

He hands her the cup of coffee, and she glares at it too before she takes it. Holden didn’t think anyone could  _ angrily _ drink coffee, but Naomi is proving him wrong right now. Impressingly so.

“Oh you know, only Fred Johnson-” she turns around in the middle of saying the man’s name to glare at the door as if he were here- “being a massive pain in the ass right now.”

Jim can't help but grin a little. Johnson, Naomi’s boss, has always been a pain in the ass, asking too much and expecting even more. It keeps Naomi on her toes, arms-deep into engines only she can fix, keeps her mind sharp. 

“It's not funny, Jimmy,” she goes on, glaring at him this time. 

Jim ignores the nickname that only his mothers use, and that Naomi has taken to using too when she wants a reaction out of him. She's just bracing herself for a fight he won't offer, because arguing with her is the worst and only makes him ache for her more.

“Quit, then.” Her glare turns into a deadpan stare. “You're wasting your brain cells on this job when you should be working on time travel with NASA.”

Naomi shakes her head, but a small smile tugs up the corners of her mouth. “NASA doesn't work on time travel.”

“Cause they haven't hired you yet.”

The smile finally reaches her eyes, and it makes Jim grin in return. Even more so when she takes a sip of her coffee to hide the blush blossoming on her cheek, giving a pinkish hue to her dark skin.

“You're too charming for your own good, Holden.”

And back to last name basis.

“Only telling the truth, Nagata.”

She rolls her eyes halfheartedly, but the smile remains on her lips for a moment longer before it turns into something sad. “You know why, though.”

He does. He knows all too well about Marco and the judge and how easy it could be for her to lose Filip. How much she fought for him. How she will put him first, always, even if it means a life stuck in a crappy garage, wasting her potential. 

“At least the neighbours are nice,” Jim replied, as cheerfully as he can. The underlying meaning obvious. 

Naomi fakes thinking, pout in her beautiful lips. “At least there's that,” she agrees with a wink.

Jim’s heart sings a sweet lullaby.

 

…

 

Marco is allowed to see Filip once a month, for two hours, in public. She would like it if he were allowed to see Filip never, but the kid loves his father too much despite the gang tattoos on his arms and the bracelet around his ankle. So the  _ Coffeenante _ it is -- public enough for Naomi’s comfort, and too mainstream for Marco’s buddies to show up.

The perk of knowing Holden or Amos could suckerpunch him any time helps, too.

She sulks in a booth, hands wrapped around a warm cup of tea and eyes throwing daggers at Marco’s skull. Filip’s little legs don’t even touch the floor, his sneakers lighting up blue and red every time they tap against the seat. The sharp contrast between his Captain America t-shirt and Marco’s greasy old shirt is just painful, and Naomi looks away in time to see Amos sliding in front of her into the booth.

He glares in Marco’s general direction too, but his presence is almost comforting in a weird way. She’s always felt safe with Amos by her side, even if (or perhaps especially because) she’s seen him beating people to a pulp on multiple occasions.

“You okay?”

She replies with a nod and a sip of her tea, and they don’t say anything much after that during the ten minutes that make his afternoon break. When he goes back behind the counter, Holden comes to replace him in front of Naomi. It almost makes her smirk, how protective of her and Filip they all are, the three boys she now considers family. They’re more of a father figure than Marco could ever hope to be. Not that he’s trying all that hard anyway.

Holden comes with refills, sliding a cup of coffee toward her. Naomi winces at the first sip, before she finally manages a smile -- definitely some whiskey in there. Holden grins at her, bright smile and wrinkly eyes, like the whole point was to surprise her. She admires, and appreciates, his effort.

“We still okay for tonight?” he asks.

They’ve planned on going to see Power Rangers, all four of them and Filip, because even if the kid has a shitty dad doesn’t mean he can’t have a badass mom. He’s been looking forward to it ever since they started talking about it last week, watching old episodes on Netflix and asking her to buy the toys and everything.

“Of course,” she nods. “Looking forward to it.”

This isn’t about her -- this very much is about Filip -- but still Naomi hopes Holden will sit next to her and hold her hand during the movie. Just because she was too young when she got a kid and she’s in a shitty situation, doesn’t mean a girl can’t dream. 

She’s always been a romantic at heart.

 

…

 

It is Mei Meng’s birthday, which means both Filip and Alex’s kid are invited to the sleepover, which means Naomi shows up at the  _ Coffeenante _ about half an hour after the end of her shift at the repair shops. She changed out of her work clothes, looking more like the evening crowd -- hipsters and students from Eros U for the most part -- than she could ever do with her coveralls. She even took a shower, if the lack of grease on her skin is anything to go by. Jim pretends not to stare, but.

She sits by the counter with a deep sigh, too loud to be natural, her usual  _ hey notice me _ . Not that Jim could  _ not _ notice her if he tried. She’s on his mind all day every day, like a itch you can’t scratch. A very beautiful itch, mind you.

Jim busies himself with making Naomi a drink, before he moves closer to her, leaning into her space with his elbows on the counter. Her eyes drift to his mouth, just a second but long enough for him to notice, and it takes all of Jim’s self-control not to lean closer still and kiss her.

“That’s sad,” is all he says instead, almost mockingly.

Naomi grabs a handful of coffee beans from a cup next to the till, and throws one at his face. “Didn’t ask,” she replies petulantly. And then, “I’m bored, okay.”

Jim grins. Entertaining her is easy, and so that is what he does for the next two hours or so, chatting with her in between serving drinks for the other customers, sliding cupcakes her way ever so often because he knows she’ll skip dinner if she doesn’t have to cook for Filip.

He almost expects her to get bored and go home at some point but she doesn’t, and she starts ranting about space and Star Trek and space  _ in _ Star trek and some other shit he doesn’t understand, but damn if he will ever stop her when she’s willingly spending time by his side. That woman is out of his league, truly, and the selfish part of him hopes she will never notice, because he couldn’t deal with not having her in his life anymore.

Before Jim knows it, he’s putting the chairs on the tables and sweeping the floor while Naomi keeps talking and talking and talking about Star Trek, and Battlestar Galactica. Star Wars. Interstellar. Firefly. Even fucking Armageddon.

She’s talking  _ at _ him more than anything else, so Jim only makes a comment every so often to let her now he’s still listening. He gets her in a fury when he asks if Han really did shoot first, and grins to himself as he finishes cleaning the espresso machine. Naomi trots behind him when he moves to the kitchens, and sits on one counter while he cleans there, and keeps talking. He’s never heard her talking that much before. Not that he minds.

He’s almost done with everything when she finally stops, the silence almost deafening. It makes him uncomfortable for a second, before Naomi drops a bomb on his.

“You never asked me out.”

Jim is glad he has his back to her, because it partially hides the way his entire body freezes on the spot, eyes widening and mouth opening in surprise. He recovers after a few seconds, and softens his features before he turns around to face her. She has an almost innocent look on her face, head tilted to the side and eyes curious, like she didn’t just tipped his world off its axis with only five words.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” he admits. “And then I didn’t think you were ready.”

He moves slowly, until he stands between her opened legs. Naomi bites down on her bottom lip, and looks at him through dark lashes, and all his blood rushes south in a second. It leaves him dizzy and stupid, and he puts his hands on her knees.

“I’m ready. Are you?” Dizzy enough not to know how to answer. She laughs. “It’s a yes or no question.”

“ _ Yes _ .”

Her kiss tastes like coffee and cupcakes, and Jim decides he’ll never get enough of her.


End file.
